Dance Suite
by Sazmuffin
Summary: HarryCedric slash. Harry's fourth year.


**Author**: Sazmuffin

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing of Harry Potter

**A/N**: This is Cedric/Harry slash in Harry's fourth year. I won't be doing the challenges, just mentioning them. This is an inspiration from an orchestra piece of mine. It has three movements and it will only have three chapters. If you don't like slash, there is one solution. Don't read my work. I respect your opinion and I expect you to respect mine.

**Dance Suite**

Chapter One: Allemande

The delicately woven silk fabric whispered across the floor as the couples danced. Lifting, dipping, sweeping each other off their feet in joyous harmony. Laughter and silliness emitted from each participant, the whites of their teeth and the shine in their eyes put the sun to shame.

Articulated bows danced gleefully across the strings of handmade instruments, conceiving a fortissimo that echoed throughout the room, ringing in the ears of the contestant's like the bells of Notre Dam.

The ice in Harry's pumpkin juice slowly condensed, forming a small layer of sweat along his hand. He watched, green with envy, as the couples danced, without a thought or a care, as free as a newborn sun. He wondered if his father or grand father or great grand father ever had to consider the idea of being queer.

The boy gulped as another approached him, shivering as if a sudden gust of wind blew in from the outside. He was only just fourteen - still short, his voice like a whistle, and a game of connect-the-dots dabbled along his face. The older boy was much more handsome than he could ever hope to be. Clear, blue eyes, soft, wheat-like hair, and a face as sharp and as clean as a doctor's scalpel.

Cedric smiled, his eyes twinkling at the sight of Harry's displacement. "Hullo," his voice came out as smooth as melted chocolate.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was as dry and as cracked as an old woman's hand. "Hi."

The older boy stood stately, his back straight with his hands clasped neatly in front of him. He looked so simply divine, as if it were no trouble at all throwing on a tuxedo and dancing like a count all night long. Harry wondered how he managed it; school, Hogwarts champion, a father who cares more about his son's reputation at school than his health. He suppressed the urge not to ogle at his companion, as Cedric replied, "Are you having a fun time with Parvati?"

The question stung like ice in Harry's heart. One so informal and so meaningless uttered from such a mouth surely couldn't be what he longed to say. "Oh, sure, I suppose. If you're into that type of thing," he shrugged, his manner rude and obnoxious.

The linens were as spotless as a dalmatian once dinner was through. Colors that never even took place on the plates dawned the cloth; an abstract array of patterns strewn throughout. Exchanged looks of longing flashed across the room, never really being seen for what they were. The diners adjourned to more dancing, and harmonic music infiltrated the hall once more.

The breeze blew cold off the lake, filling Harry's hair and engulfing the smells and sounds of wildlife. Peppermint floated into his nose and his senses flared. Cedric was near; walking toward where he now sat. The rock was flat against him, hard and unforgiving. Harry shifted uncomfortably as black loafers perched next to him.

"Out for a bit of fresh air?"

"Yep," Harry answered, irritated and slightly excited that Cedric seemed to be following him.

"It seems that I'm partial to this spot as well; it's not very well known. But you seem to be right on the money with it, eh?"

Harry gulped. "I've seen you sit here, once or twice."

Cedric nodded, not answering. There was almost no movement tonight on the lake; the occasional ripple of a swimming fish, the throaty croak of a bullfrog, it all seemed so rehearsed. Harry jumped when Cedric stood abruptly, muttered "must be off," and ran for the castle. He looked around; embarrassed, hurt, self-conscious. What had made Cedric leave so suddenly?

It was a clear, crisp morning when Harry woke up. His body was incredibly warm, as was his bed, it having an unbelievably cold night. He didn't want to move; he wanted to stay in his nice, warm bed until the stars rained down from the heavens. Groaning, he plopped back down into bed, letting the warm aroma of sleep and peppermint envelop him. Sleep grabbed hold of him, and sent him off to the highest mountain peak and the deepest ocean floor.

"Harry, you really must start to pay attention in class. I won't be around to take your notes for you or to learn your job for you . . . " Hermione had started her morning rant for the day the minute he asked her to check his essay for mistakes.

She didn't understand. Things were easy for her. She didn't have the idea of two colossal challenges ahead of her that could ultimately end her life, or the extremely confusing concept for preferring men to women poking at him every time he saw a boy with pretty eyes or a nice butt.

". . . get harder next year when we have to take our O.W.Ls. Harry - Harry, are you even listening to me?" Hermione's spat out the last words as if she swallowed toothpaste.

"I'm sorry, what?" he anxiously covered his mouth with his hand.

Hermione began muttering under her breath as she threw her schoolbooks into her bag and stood, taking off like a bullet from a shotgun.

The Yule Ball had been hard enough on him; being told he had to have a date and then dance with her in front of everyone only turned his pulse into a quickstep. But to have the ever-threatening O.W.Ls next year, a very familiar Cedric seeming to go wherever he did, and his friends - who never caught on right away.

The fire crackled like the balls on a pool table as Harry gazed at his fellow students. Many were sitting around tables, writing essays or practicing spells. Ginny was sitting in her favorite chair, her fingertips pressing against each other, four rings on her thumbs, right index finger and left middle finger. She did well to enhance her appearance - she looked majestic in the firelight. Harry was greatly pleased when he found that he was still attracted to females. It was quite a load off his mind.

He turned his head to the left and saw Hermione loudly scolding Ron on his Charms essay. She said it was mediocre and childish for a student of his age. That he should be able to produce a paper that was not only fully researched - but actually legible. Ron's handwriting had always been a soft spot, for his teachers, his parents and him. One too many times he was asked to stand up in class and read something of his own accord and he had to withstand the embarrassment of not being able to read his own print.

That evening, as everyone filed in for dinner, he loitered. Harry wanted to find Cedric - maybe talk to him, look at him, anything that involved Cedric was fine with him. Sometimes it frightened him; how he could be so infatuated with this boy that he was all to think about. Was there something wrong with him? Something wrong in his birth that made him fancy boys?

To his dismay, he never saw the older Hufflepuff on the way in. As Harry stirred in spices to his soup, he felt someone looking at him. Sure enough, he had a clear view of Cedric as he passed. The boy was making eyes at him. He lowered his eyes to Harry's bread, and motioned for him to open it.

Harry's eyebrows moved to an almost impossible height as he ripped his bread apart, to find a small scrap of paper with writing upon it.

It read:

Meet me by the witch that leads to the passage into Honeydukes in one hour. Make sure you aren't seen.

He stole a glance at Cedric - who looked at him questioningly. He nodded and smiled. Cedric's eyes sparkled like emeralds and drew away from the gaze. Harry grinned in spite of himself. He was going to have a good time tonight. He felt it deep within his bones.


End file.
